


Calling Me, Calling You

by Barrissia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Gen, Humanstuck, Multi, mention of mental illnesses and hints of suicide, multiple pairings but those are the main ones, nobody dies though dont worry, nothing real big but just so you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barrissia/pseuds/Barrissia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you run an abuse helpline from your mobile phone. Online and through the phone they call you The Sufferer, an anonymous advice giver who helps anyone and everyone. Not even your friends know what you do.<br/>This is fine, until one of your callers sounds just a bit too familiar for your liking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and despite what other people may think, you _love_ your job.

Admittedly, nobody actually knows what your job is – they all swallowed the lie that you fed them a year and a half ago about working in a call centre. They simply presume that you hate your job, despite never asking about it, and you most certainly would hate it if that was where you really worked.

It's not even working, really. You're not paid for what you do, even if the company is your own, complete with a website and logo to boot. You don’t even have a term for what you do – it's not volunteer work, it's far more than that. You give up your time to help those in need, no matter what their problem (or lack thereof) is.

Online and through the phone you are known as _The Sufferer_. You're not really sure where the name came from, but it stuck. It's a relief that they know you by this – it makes you an anonymous figure, your friends won't be able to find out about what you do, for surely you'd become the ridicule of the school - who gives up their free time to help people they don't even know?

So you buy a voice editor to hide yourself further, and to make yourself sound calmer, more professional. You change your website and posters to read _The Sufferers_ in correspondance to your name, because really, it is quite fitting. The people that you talk to are exactly that – sufferers. You've spoken to some that have come to you as a last resort, feeling that there was no way for them to continue on with their lives. You've managed to persuade them otherwise.

You've been an open ear to everyone’s problems – you've gotten into the habit of writing down names, remembering their stories and revelling in delight when they call you again to thank you, to say that they're surviving because of you.

It makes you feel needed. You thank them in return for spilling their troubles to you, for trusting a small voice’s advice and using it to help themselves. You don’t mind how often they call you – you know firsthand that different people need different help, need different advice, need different amounts of support.  
  
You don’t mind being woken in the middle of the night, or having to skip out on a lesson to speak to someone that needs you. You don’t mind if they just listen to you ramble on about your day, because they need some sanity in their lives. You don’t mind listening to people cry or rant, and occasionally put in the odd comment to reassure them that your listening. You enjoy giving advice, and when you get out of college, you're going to invest in The Sufferers to help people all over the world.  
  
It's an alter ego that you can hide behind, you can immerse yourself into someone else’s troubles to escape your own, without having to move a muscle.  
  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you run an abuse helpline from your mobile phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i wasnt expecting that response at all holy fuck  
> you wonderful people, have a chapter. sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations (its going to be long and pretty slow moving because i ramble like a psychopath)

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and _God_ , do you hate Monday mornings.

It's a hatred that's been with you for years and grown in the past few months, especially since you're living in your own apartment. Your family is pretty well off – well off enough that you would never have to work, should you not want to – and your older brother Kankri finally moved out to live with some of his other friends in May. The lack of non-stop talking was a fucking _incredible_ relief at first, but you find yourself missing it; especially now that you only have an alarm clock to get you up. You've missed your first classes more times than you can count.

You most definitely hate mornings, but Mondays are the bane of your existence – to be honest, it's one of the only constant things in your life.

You snort out loud at the thought, before smacking your hand into your alarm clock to shut it up. It says a lot about you, really, that you find comfort in knowing that the week will always start in the same terrible way – full of people with their eyes half closed, slouching around more than usual and grunting in reply to questions.

To be honest, you should reconsider your hatred of Mondays. You definitely prefer the brain dead douchenuts to the usual loud, overly excited douchenuts that you have to put up with for the rest of the week.

In fact, if it weren’t for getting up at 6.30 so you can catch the bus at 7.15, then sit waiting for your first class to begin at 8, you would greatly enjoy the peace that Monday brought.

But you digress.

Heaving yourself up, you quickly jot the happenings of last night down into your journal. The last caller had been a young girl, excitedly telling you how she’d won her court case and found new foster parents. The mere thought of it makes a warm, soft feeling seep through you, and you're smiling as you step into the shower.

It doesn’t take long to scrub yourself down, wash your hair and inspect your chin for any stubble – which, surprise surprise, is as absent as ever. You step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, completely dressed and ready to roll, and with another fifteen minutes before you need to leave.

You sit down at your desktop, wake it from its sleep and log into _The Sufferers_ website. There’s no particular reason for doing this – people can't message you, there are no forums to moderate, no way for people from the site to message you. It might be that having your own website makes you feel important, and you scroll down the page with a sense of pride.

There’s a small, nagging voice in your head, telling you that if you were any better at programming, you could have fancier features – it would certainly make your life a shit tonne easier to answer emails in the evening, rather than taking phone calls at all kinds of odd hours. You push the voice away with a frown, and close the website. If you were a little braver (or just a little less _fucking pathetic_ ), you could ask Sollux for help, but you’re still uncomfortable about letting people know what you do. You’ll tell them when you're sure they won't laugh.

A glance at the clock on your bedside table tells you that you've managed to kill ten minutes. You groan at the thought of leaving your warm apartment – it's November, after all – and quickly pull on your grey hoodie to prepare for the chill of outside.

It takes less than a minute to jog to the small kitchenette, grab a pear from the bowl on the table and throw it into your bag. You grab your ipod and headphones from the coffee table in the living room, pulling on shoes as you walk, before locking the door and blocking the world out with music as you begin to make your way to the bus stop.

 

* * *

 

 

The bus journey and the walk to the common rooms is as uneventful as ever. No one spoke to you, thank fuck, else you might have erupted in their face like a giant, gross blister that some asshat decided to pop.

Urgh.

You quickly rid yourself of the mental image, and push open the door of the room that your friends have adopted as their own. You're not surprised to see it empty – the only person other than yourself to have a class this early is Eridan, and he’s on the other side of the campus. It's something of a relief, and you collapse down into the plushest recliner in the room, before pulling out your pear and entertaining yourself with a game of Temple Run until you need to leave, setting an alarm just in case you doze off.

You argue with yourself about asking Sollux for help with your website, which manages to keep you awake, and causes you to die several times in the game. Fuck.

He wouldn’t tell anyone about your job if you told him, and it would be _so fucking good_ to get a full night’s sleep, for once. He probably won’t even question why you need a forum. You find yourself texting him; asking to meet up with him when classes are finished, then swear as you look at the clock.

Your morning is jam packed and you won't have a rest until lunch. You're exhausted with just the mere thought of having to concentrate, and you're going to have to sprint if you want to make your literature lecture on time.

 _Jesus hell_ , you _hate_ Mondays.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time lunch rolls around you're fully prepared to impale someone on a fork. Or throw away your dignity and collapse to the floor like a drunkass bear that's lost its bear-cave. Do bears live in caves? You ponder for a moment, then decide that you don’t even give the lowest of shits. They could live in spectacular flying warships for all you care. Maybe they’d abduct you and turn you into a dancing puppet thing.

You make your way through the growing crowd to your usual table, and to your disgust, the only occupant is Dave Strider. You throw yourself down on the opposite end, ignoring him completely, and you see him raise an eyebrow out of the corner of your eye.

Normally the two of you argue within a minute of speaking – there’s just something about him that _infuriates_ you. Your entire relationship bases itself around pathetic arguments (that you will never admit to enjoying), but there’s no chance in hell that you're going to speak to him today without committing murder.

Your face must tell him that, for he simply nods in your direction, before pulling out his phone and ignoring you in return.

The table begins to fill itself, first with Striders’ closest friends. Rose nods in your direction, sitting herself down delicately opposite Strider, Jade and John hot on her heels. They call a cheery greeting over to you; you nod briefly before putting in a headphone and turning your music on.

You’re interrupted by a prod to the back of your head, and you turn to glare at the offender.

Gamzee ignores the glare of death, and eases himself down next to you.

“How’s a motherfucker doing on this fine, sunny day?” he smiles, reaching into his bag and pulling out a carton of juice. You watch him take a sip, frowning slightly.

“It's 48 fucking degrees out there, don’t even _think_ about letting the word ‘sunny’ slip out of your filthy pie hole until it's April. Maybe even May,” you tell him.

He sighs and puts down the carton. “A little cold never hurt a brother, did it?”

You just roll your eyes, and open your mouth to speak when there is a cry of _“Food!”_. Gamzee turns his attention from you, looking towards a cheerful Nepeta and Aradia, both laden with plates and bowls of food.

You're not quite sure when it started, but your friends have a system where a pair are assigned a week to bring whatever food wanted by the table to the table. You're also not quite sure when you're expected to go on the food run – you were absent when Kanaya chose the pairs, but you trust her enough to give you someone tolerable to go with. 

A plate of fries is shoved under your nose, and you thank Nepeta quietly. She ruffles your hair good-naturedly, then skips off to sit next to Feferi.

You eat in silence as the group settles down for a few minutes, listening to Vriska tell a wild tale about her new pet tarantula.

“Why would you even want an arachnid in your house?” Rose muses, and you agree.

Vriska sends a withering look in Roses’ direction, then pulls out her phone. “She is not a mere _arachnid_ , she is a _Rusty Red Baboon Tarantula_ , and her bloodline is probably better than yours!”

“I'm glad that my heritage has been beaten by a spider. You deeply wound me, Serket.” Rose states back. “I'm sorry that I am not very well bred, Kanaya. You should leave me, and follow in Vriska’s footsteps to find a more suitable partner, like she has.”

You remember with a snigger that Rose is cousins with John, the latter of which is dating Vriska. The spider bitch herself looks confused, whilst Kanaya smirks.

“That doesn’t even make _sense_ , Lalonde.”

“So has the spider taken over John’s role? Are we going to have to see you exchange saliva with her, now?”

Vriska’s eyes widen as she realises, and you can hear her trying to think of a pathetic retort. John himself is openly laughing, and she swats him on the arm.

You can feel a full scale war about to start, but before you can storm at them, Equius stands up. Vriska instantly tenses, but Equius ignores her in favour of looking at his best friend.

“Nepeta? I have prepared a new prototype, if you would like to see it now?” he asks.

She nods, a small smile spreading over her face, then downright _squeals_ loudly enough to break glass when he places a metal cat on the table. It's about the size of your hand and it's _adorable as shit_. You can feel your heart pulling in your chest once again, and decide that you really need to get a fucking grip on your emotions. This is getting ridiculous.

The table crows over the metal thing and you can tell that Nepeta’s still in shock, from the lack of high pitch mewing coming from her end of the table.

“You made it? For me?”

Equius blushes faintly, and you consider taking a photo as blackmail. “A present, as an apology for not being round so much due to my developing relationship.”

His blush gets deeper, and you sneakily slide out your pretty shitty old phone. Aradia leans into him, smiling happily, and you quickly snap a shot of the two of them. _It's adorable_ , the romantic inside you whispers, but you ignore it in favour of yelling for the two of them to “Get a room already.”

Nepeta’s still watching the kitten; it staggers over to her, and she presses her nose against it. You don’t think that you're going to hear much from her now.

The table settles down again, and you find yourself observing the imbeciles you call friends. It's been a while since you've had a ‘quiet day’, with no shouting or storming. It gets tiring, after all, and you’re perfectly content to just watch them.

Nepeta and Feferi catch your eyes first, simply because they're still fawning over the cat. How the ever loving fuck do they have that much energy?

On Feferi’s other side is Eridan, who’s talking very animatedly with Sollux over that table. Oh, wait, scratch that, they're yelling now. What a surprise.

You’d quite enjoy smushing their lips together, and knocking them out to shut them up. They’d sort their relationship out and go miraculously silent at the same time. It would be a _magnificent_ silence, and they’d thank you on bended knees for your incredible efforts in sorting out their overly pathetic lives.

Whatever. You ignore them, and move on. Terezi’s sat next to Sollux, watching them silently, which strikes you as a bit odd. Maybe she’s feeling a bit off. If you cared about her _, (which you certainly don’t anymore, thank you very much)_ , you’d go and find out. But any feelings you had for her were swamped down when she dated Dave, and they're all gone. All of them.

On her other side is Kanaya. God bless Kanaya, she’s a fucking heroine. You don’t know how you’d survive without her. She’s talking to her not-quite-girlfriend Rose Lalonde, and you can tell from the position of their arms and the help of your _fantastic_ romance detecting skills that they’re holding hands under the table. Aww.

Roses’ trio of friends are around her, and you don’t mull over them for long. You've thought about them enough today, and you have your next class with John, anyway.

Vriska looks as smarmy as ever, devouring a sandwich and flailing around still. You think she’s talking to Gamzee and Tavros, but she might be talking to herself. Who knows?  They’re talking to Equius and Aradia anyway, but she won't have noticed.

After deciding that nobody’s talking about anything interesting, you put in your other headphone. Lunch will be over soon, so they can deal without you for a bit longer. They should be _glad_ that you trust them to be normal without your careful and dedicated as tits leadership. They can act like brain dead asswipes while you’re gone, plummeting through their own festering flap of paradox space into a realm of fuck all. You're not too bothered about what they do at this point, as long as they come back eventually with a small shred of sanity.

You have another two classes, then a meeting with Sollux, then you can sleep.

Thank _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies if any words are wrong (im english, not american so have many u's thrown into words)  
> http://cronulicious.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa this is late sorry guys  
> you might have heard about the storms here in the uk its pretty fucking horrific tbh, my entire streets power went out for a few days and ive only just got the internet back. hence the lateness. sorry bout that.
> 
> This is going to be a really long rambling story because i cant get to the point but plot will evolve at some point, thank god.

* * *

“So,” says Sollux, “What am I being forced into this time?”

The two of you are sat in a Starbucks, him clutching a frappuccino, and you warming your hands on a large coffee. Normally you don’t like coffee all that much - it makes your heart beat too fast and your head spin – but Sollux had offered to pay. You're not going to say no to free drinks.

You manage to look affronted at him as you take a sip of your coffee. You've never called on him all that much, save the times when your computers broken down or caught a virus – but he _likes_ mending things, so it shouldn’t be an issue.

“I am not forcing you into anything, calm down,” you frown, and he snorts.

“You only ask to ‘meet up’ these days if you want something, fuckhead, and you’d go to Kanaya if it _was_ a serious thing,” he says smugly. You want to slap him, but for the sake of your website, you resist the temptation.

You can't even make fun of his lisp. He’s apparently on a good day, and all traces of it are gone. His mood is great, too. The medicine they put him on seems to be working a charm. The lack of mood swings and angry outburst is quite nice, you think. But whatever.

“Maybe I wanted a nice meeting with my bestest buddy. Did that ever seep into that thick skull of yours?”

He remains silent, and takes a sip of his frozen drink, watching you over the top of the straw. How he can stand to drink something like that in this weather is beyond you. It might have something to do with the fact he’s Canadian. Or maybe you're just a huge fucking wimp who can't stand the cold.

He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly, and you sigh.

“Do you know where I work?”

He shakes his head, eyebrow still raised.

“It's not even work, really, I don’t get paid for shit, but I do it in my free time – or all the time, actually, that's why I need you – and it's great, really fucking fantastic, I mean, I really enjoy it which really is the icing on the fucking ridiculous cake of life-“

“Are you going to actually tell me or am I going to have to listen to you spew bullcrap all day?”

“Fuck you. I run a helpline for helping people.” You say nervously, watching his face closely. He lets out a snort of laughter, and you wince.

“What the fuck is funny about that? There’s nothing funny about that at all!” you hiss, fully prepared to rant, but he waves you down.

“Calm your shit, KK, I'm not laughing at you,”

“What the ever loving fuck is it then?”

“’A helpline for helping people’. I really hope that's not your name because that is the _shittiest_ name of a helpline that I have ever heard in my entire existence.”

He shakes his head in amusement as you, and you can feel your shoulders drop in relief. He’s not deserting you, he hasn’t openly laughed and screamed to the world about what you do – from what you can see of his face, he doesn’t even look shocked. Huh.

You quickly explain to him about _The Sufferers_ and its history, becoming a little bit misty eyed in the process. He interrupts you as you're about to tell him of the first person you ever helped with a frown.

“Look, this is really great and all – seriously bro, I'm pleased for you – but where the hell do I come into this?” he asks, and you curse yourself for rambling. It's a very Kankri-like thing to do, and it's a rather annoying habit that you've somehow managed to pick up in his absence.

With a quick look over your shoulder – you don’t want anyone listening, even if they are a total stranger, but the tables behind you are wonderfully empty – you explain about how little sleep you're getting, and how the calls are interrupting your classes. He makes a small interruption of “So _that's_ where you've been going!” before telling you to get on with it, and you tell him of your fucking _fantastic_ idea of a forum, chat room and private messaging system.

There’s a small spark in his eyes – his glasses slipped down when he heard your tale, and he has yet to push them back up. He looks pretty damn excited, if you say so yourself, and you're almost certain he’ll take up the task. You take a sip of your slowly cooling coffee, and quietly watch him. He’s thinking so loud you can almost hear it, and he keeps quiet for a few more minutes before smiling.

“When do you want me to start?” he asks, the smile turning into a very smug look.

Thank _fuck_. Sollux Captor is a goddamn _miracle_ ; you're going to make him a little plaque saying ‘fucking great when he wants to be’ and you will present it in front of the entire group.  

It's a bit over the top but who the fuck cares. You do what you want.

“As soon as you can, I can't deal with much less sleep or I'm going to collapse and you douchenits will all wail like the children you are at my tragic demise.” You tell him.

He takes out his phone and begins to tap away, tongue slightly visible through his lips in concentration. You ask him what he's doing.

“Making sure I have all the details, fuckass. Is the helpline for anyone in particular, or just everyone with a problem?”  He replies, eyes never leaving the screen.

“It started off as an abuse line but anyone that needs someone to talk to is welcome. I've had all sorts of people call in.”

With a nod, he puts his phone back into his pocket and stands up.

“It was wonderful doing business with you, Mister Vantas,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“Where are you going now?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Meet with TZ, then go to the pharmacy to pick up some stuff, then to work on this for you,” he says merrily, and a bitter feeling enters your mouth.

“How romantic,” you say.

He laughs. “You could come too if you want, y’know. Get away from the phone for a while,”

“I’d rather not spend my time in the company of you and a raging lunatic, thanks.” You say, heaving yourself up out of the chair.

“Be nice. I need more meds; she needs something as well and having no vision means they’d probably rip her off. So we’re going together. No need to get in a huff.”

You roll your eyes at him again and finish your coffee. “Of course. I’ll see you around,”

“I’ll say hey to her for you.” He throws his cup into the bin and checks his phone again before turning to leave.

“Don’t bother,” you say, tossing your own in the bin and following him. He's barely three steps away from you when you feel a flood of what may be guilt, or possibly even gratitude, fills your chest.

“Oi. Thanks.” You say begrudgingly, and he laughs.

“No problem, KK. It’ll be done in a week.”

 

* * *

 

 

On your way home, you take another call. This time it's a boy, only 14 years old. His tear filled voice breaks your heart, and you gently prompt him to tell you everything. It takes a while for him to calm down enough to speak, and you learn that his best friend had tried to ‘off himself’, as he put it. You recognise from his language that he has depression, and when you ask him, he gives you a small ‘yes’.

You're getting pretty damn good at this psychological stuff. You're not sure whether to be happy or sad about it.

When you reach the street opposite your house, you encourage him to talk about the things he enjoys doing. At first you get an answer of ‘nothing anymore’, but with a bit more prodding he opens up and you find he loves skiing. You ask where he’s from – Washington, near a small skiing resort next to the Canadian border.

He begins to open up, and you can hear life in his voice as you push open your apartment door.

You've learnt over the past few months that the easiest way to help people to cope is to find a thing they enjoy, and help them realise they enjoy it and encourage them to feel good about it, instead of sitting on the flaws they have and trying to mend them. Taking their mind off the flaw and helping them see they’re a bigger person than just that has worked hundreds of times, and you're beginning to realise that that's why some councillors don’t work.

Of course, different people need different things, and you know firsthand that this doesn’t work for most. Some say immediately what’s wrong because they need to get it off their chest. Some stay silent and you have to peel away their shell with questions because they’ve been holding their feelings in for _so long._

Yeah, you're getting _fantastic_ at this business. You could take over from the professionals, eventually.

The boy tells you about his friend, and you find out that the friend used to swim. So the two of you talk about swimming for a while. You tell him a story about how Kankri had lost his trunks (you were twelve and it is definitely your favourite memory from that year) when going down a slide at Disney world, and he laughs. Your heart begins to warn again, and after a moment of silence, he thanks you quietly. You tell him to call as often as he needs, and to get out on the slopes again. He says he’ll tell his friend to call you because goddamn, you've made his day a lot brighter. He wants the same for his friend, and you make a note of it in your journal.

You ask his name and learn that he’d rather not say, which is fine. He gives you a nickname instead, and you've gotten good at remembering voices even if he forgets what he told you to call him. You’ll recognise who he is when he calls again.

Laying down on your recliner, you stretch out and flick on the TV. Despite it being a Monday, you've been given no work at all and it's _great_. You're absolutely shattered, and a glance at the clock tells you that it's almost 6. You’ll make yourself some food later, you decide – you had your biweekly shop yesterday, so your cupboards are fully stocked. You're on a mission this week, and it's going _fantastic_.

All you need to do now is sort out your friends love lives (they’re all too goddamn immature to do it themselves, apart from maybe Rose and Kanaya), catch up on sleep and keep passing your classes. Which you're doing anyway, because you're an incredibly dedicated student.

Unless the Earth decides to spontaneously implode upon itself, you're going to have a fucking lovely week. You can feel it in your bones.

(Or maybe you're just aching because you're tired. Whatever. You don’t care.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about sollux i love sollux but i cant write him and i wanted a canadian character so canadian sollux here you go  
>   
> cronulicious.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is plot development and a very emotional Karkat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who had a day off school and wrote you a thing.

 

Three hours later sees you playing Skyrim on your own. You're not a big fan of gaming, really – it's more of Sollux’s thing – which is fine, because you rarely have time for it these days anyway.

The night is exceptionally quiet. You haven’t needed to take any calls since you returned to your apartment, and you rejoice in it. Nobody needs your help, and you get a nice quiet evening to yourself. The former is definitely more fucking important, thank you very much, but the latter is a very nice bonus.

At nine, you decide that you're far too knackered to carry on killing dragons and curl yourself up in bed. Both phones are on your bedside table, just in case, but you really hope you don’t get a call because holy spitting hellfire, what a wonder it would be to have a full night of sleep.

A vision of your own building full of professional therapists, hand chosen and trained by yourself, answering calls and making people happy entertains your mind before you settle down, and it takes less than a minute for you to be swallowed by sleep.

 

* * *

 

You're woken by a loud blaring of Queen’s _‘I Want It All’_ (because Queen are fucking fantastic, no matter what Vriska says), and snatch up your helpline phone. A brief glance at the time tells you that it is 1.15AM, and you sigh mentally.

You answer it with a soft “Hello?” and rub your eyes warily.

“Hello,” a small voice eventually says. You make a mental note that their voice is feminine.

“Hello,” you reply, “Do you have any preferred pronouns?”

You don’t want to make a mistake after all – people need to be comfortable with you.

“She’s fine, I'm female,” she replies, and you roll from your bed to get your journal.

“Any particular reason for calling tonight, or do you just want to talk?”

You can't wait for Sollux to sort you an email. It would be far less awkward to ask the first few questions through the computer.

The girl sighs. “A friend told me about you, said he’d heard some good things and I should call, since I won't tell him what’s going on. So here I am.” Her voice is flat, emotionless. You pity her immediately.

 (You pity everyone immediately, who are you kidding.)

Her voice sounds somewhat familiar, but that's not unusual. You've had twins call you once, and that had been a fucktonne of fun, trying to get your head around it. You’d made their days when you told them of your confusion, though. Every cloud has a silver lining, in the end.

“Here you are,” you state. “You’ve got a pretty good friend, from the sounds of things,”

She gives a ‘hmm’ of confirmation. “I'm lucky to have him. Life’s crap for the two of us, but his is getting better again. I'm not sure if mine will, I'm damaged goods, after all.”

“No you're _not_ , and don’t you ever believe that about yourself again, deal?” you say, biting back the harshness that wants to break through. Seems like you're not going to be able to do this the easy way, but you're not having anyone say that about themselves on your watch, dammit.

“Yeah right, I've got an assload of baggage, and you don’t know me anyway,”

“Tell me about yourself, then. Anything, I don’t mind at all. Ramble on until you want to speak, go for it.”

“You're a funny one,” she tells you. You hear a small sniffle on the other end of the phone. “It was all good, but then it – I dunno, it just...”

“...Went tumbling out of control?” you provide. You get another ‘hmm’.

“How was it before?” you prompt.

“To be honest? Great, really. I had friends, we went out a lot, had fun... the usual. With a few issues, but otherwise it was all cool,” she sighs. You can tell that she’s lonely, despite the lack of tone in her voice and you want to reach down the phone and hug her, but that's impossible, duh. Maybe you could get Sollux to make you a portable hugger. Or Equius, he’d probably do a better job on the building side. Whatever, you're rambling in your head _again_. Fuck.

There’s a slightly awkward pause.

“And it’s all changed now, I take it?”

She laughs shakily. It's not even a laugh, really, more of a puff of air, but holy shit you recognise that sound. You recognise that tiny puff of air and why the _fuck_ do you recognise it that _should not be happening_ , _nope,_ you don’t _want_ to recognise it.

“Just a bit,” she says.

“A very big bit.”

“Yup.”

“How big are we speaking here?” you suspect it's pretty fucking big, but you should never assume. Never.

“You can decide that for yourself, it depends on what your definition of ‘big’ is,”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to ignore the tiny voice in your mind that's screeching that you definitely recognise that voice. Even if you can't really hear the voice, you know it. But you don’t _know know_ it; you can't place where you've heard it before and it's _frustrating_.

“I’ll just read your mind for a minute then, find out how ‘big’ it is, but _whoops_ , seems like I can't because either your mind must have the strength of a bear and I can't break through, or _I'm not actually a mind reader_.” Maybe that was a bit mean, but you reckon she can take it. She seems to take your words in her stride, after all, playing little mind games with you. You don’t really mind, but Jesus Christ on a pancake, you're tired. As long as she’s comfortable, you can just deal with it.

“Would you like me to tell you, then?” she says, and although you can tell she’s trying to be light hearted, you can almost feel the pain she’s emitting. It stings.

“The real question is would you like to tell me? It's your choice, after all,” you tell her.

“I can tell you,” she replies.

“Wonderful.” You say. She snorts.

“I’ve got a bit of a – for the lack of decent terms – handicap. From an accident when I was twelve. It made it pretty difficult to make friends because I was always the weird one, but since I was 15 I had a fucking great bunch of friends.”

“Had?”

“Yeah, had. I kinda pushed them all away, trying to deal with my problems myself.”

“It didn’t work, then.”

“It didn’t work at all. I still sit with them for lunch and shit, but we don’t go out anymore, and the only one that really speaks to me is the one who told me to call you. But we’re kinda in the same boat, in a strange, strange way. The others don’t speak to me at all. I think they gave up, I'm not even sure if I can consider them friends anymore.” Her voice is a bit wobbly, but she’s trying her damn best to hide it.

“Why not?” you probe gently, trying to encourage her to speak.

“I locked myself away in my own head for months, didn’t speak to anyone other than the one that- dammit, let’s call him Mustard, he loves mustard-“

You snort under your breath in amusement and note it down.

“-and they haven’t spoken to me since. Haven’t even looked at me, really. I know one of them hates me ‘cause I dated his nemesis for, like, a week. Then my ex’s group joined my group, and I sorta got shunted out whilst I was off pitying myself.”

Holy fucking shit.

“His friends were never really fond of me, but I made it worse, and the voice in my head told me that my friends didn’t speak to me because they hated me, and... I began to believe them.”

You hear a snuffle from the other end of the phone, and sigh. “It’s okay to cry, y’know? I'm not going to judge you or anything,”

“I’ve spent enough time self pitying, I’ll be fine,” she huffs, but her heart isn’t in it. The line goes silent for a moment, but it's far less awkward (thank god).

“You mentioned a voice,” you state cautiously. “Are we talking about a conscience, or..?”

“I'm very mildly schizophrenic. Or was, it's got worse recently,” she barks out a laugh and your heart stutters.

“I didn’t even know until Mustard drug me to the clinic when I told him about it. I had a female voice, she sort of ‘taught’ me after the accident, and she’s harmless. I thought it was normal for people - people like _me_ to get them, but the other one came a few months ago.”

“That’s the more harmful one, yeah?”

“Yeah. I'm on tablets, but they’re not really working.”

She sniffs again. The tiny voice in your own head is getting more and more frustrated with you because you don’t know who this is and you're _scared_. You're scared, because this sounds way, way too familiar to you; you've seen something like this play out and you can't figure out if it was fact or fiction. What if the least likely thing has happened, and you know this person? What if you've walked past them on the street, what if you've sat next to them in class?

“Is the voice still there?” you ask, because you can't think of much other than _holy shit_ at the moment.

“It argues with the first one a lot, but it's speaking to me less and less,”

“Which is a good thing, you should be happy about that. You're _beating_ it.”

“I know, but when it speaks it's more violent and I don’t know what to do because I'm alone, and what if it's right? What if it's right and they do all hate me because I fucked everything up, and they wouldn’t miss me if I just left?” her voice breaks on the last word and there are tears in your eyes.

“It’s not right. The voices are never right, trust me, _please_ , and you do have people that would miss you – I’d miss you, Mustard would miss you, nobody can just vanish without people panicking and blaming themselves because even if you did fuck up, they’ll still worry about you and wonder what they did wrong, and it's a horrid circle of anger and pain and it's _not worth worrying about_ , alright? Everyone’s important, and I don’t even care if you say you're alone because you're not, you've got me now and I swear to god I will hunt you down and stalk you everywhere if you threaten to up and leave to _anywhere_.”

You don’t mention what she’s implied because fuck no, you don’t want to make it worse.

You're rant has worked a bit, anyway – you can hear a faint, watery chuckle. You allow yourself to smile.

“Have we got a deal?” you ask.

“You do indeed,” she breathes.

Your mind skips, and oh no.

Oh no no no no _no_.

“You never did say what the ‘accident’ was. Is it a touchy subject or are you worried I’d judge you?”

“...maybe. Others do.”

You sigh, and inform her that you don’t care about anything but people’s happiness. She murmurs something in what you're guessing is embarrassment.

“Car crash. I was twelve, got glass in my eyes, had them removed. That's all there is to it. I'm legally blind now, and my mum’s getting me a Seeing Eye Dog next year.”

You're mouth has gone dry, and you don’t think you're breathing.

The only thing going through your mind is no.

It's not her. Not in a million, it can’t be and it shouldn’t be, you’d _know_ if it was, you look out for your friends, goddammit, and you don’t hate her if it is her, never in a billion years could you hate her.

_No no no no no._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, your comments make my life, i love you all so much holy fucking shit im going to hunt you all down and give you cake
> 
> i was going to leave subtle hints as to who the caller was but couldnt find a good place to stop it, so here you go, thats who it is, we have plot, praise jesus


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Eridan, and officially Terezi. Karkat is emotionally stunted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ive been in Poland (IT WAS INCREDIBLE HOLY SHIT) and ive got a cold, forgive any mistakes.

 

She hangs up not long after that. You register that she tells you it’s 2AM where she is – _and where you are, you're just 3 streets away from her house goddammit_ – and you make her promise to call you again tomorrow.

You heard a low laugh and she thanks you for listening. You thank her for calling, and tell her to speak to one of her friends about it _(you’ll try tomorrow, you’ll ask for her help on something and speak to her then)_. She asks for a name to call you, and you have an internal argument about whether to reveal your identity. In the end you tell her to call you the Sufferer. When you ask if she has a name, she tells you “Just Redglare, I used to roleplay when I was younger as Redglare.”

The teeny, tiny part of you that was praying it wasn’t her dies. You remember her roleplaying days, with Vriska and Nepeta and Tavros and Aradia and you hated it.

Hated hated hated.

When the phone clicks to tell you she’s gone, you curl up on your beds, into a nest of blankets and pillows and sheer pain.

You don’t manage to sleep for more than half an hour before waking up, shaking and whimpering, dream forgotten but _you're not stupid, you can guess what would leave you in that much terror._

You don’t try to go back to sleep. The TV is turned on and you sit in stunned silence watching teleshopping, until you deem it an acceptable time to get ready for school.

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy shit on a sandwich, what _happened_ to you?” Eridan asks as you slide into your seat next to him, receiving a glare from your History professor for your two minute late arrival.

“Bad night. Don’t ask.” You grunt, heaving out your books and a pen and hoping that he takes the hint to leave you alone.

He kind of does.

With a small sigh, he pushes his thermos of coffee towards you and mutters, “Pretty sure you need this more than I do. Pay me back tomorrow; this coffee is expensive as fuck.”

God bless Eridan Ampora. If you weren’t already in the shits with your professor, you’d hug him. In a strictly platonic manner, of course. (Sollux’d kill you if it wasn’t. Stupid idiotic shit pickles, they need to get their act together.)

You try to smile at him but you're pretty sure it came out as more of a grimace. If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it, and you're grateful.

The pair of you spend the rest of the lecture in silence, other than the occasional hiss of “Why did I even take this,” and “History’s interestin’, fuck you,” or “I need a new pen,” and “You're a fucking idiot why didn’t you bring any spare oh my god Kar.”

You use the time to think, to yell at yourself for being so fucking _stupid_.

 _How the flying fuck didn’t you_ notice _._

_You're meant to be good at reading people why didn’t you notice what was going on with her._

_You even said yesterday that she looked bad at lunch and dismissed it as her having a bad day. How often have you done that in the past month or so?_

_Not fucking many, because you've been hiding from her like a fucking coward and barely looked in her direction._

_When was the last time you’d heard her speaking and laughing at lunch like she used to before she dated Strider?_

_You_

_Can't_

_Remember._

_You didn’t notice. Maybe it was that you didn’t want to notice that something was wrong. Maybe you thrived on the fact that she wasn’t as happy as she used to be, because you can't deny that there was a tiny part of you that hated her sometimes, that hated what she used to be – all loud voices and sharp cackles and quick questions and blunt accusations and far too clever, too attentive, too bright for her own good._

_That tiny part of you has died, it had probably fallen away last night when you realised how broken she’s become, and you hate that more than you could ever hate anything about her because, there’s no point in hiding it anymore, you_ adore _every little aspect of her, no matter how irritating, and it_ hurts _._

_Why didn’t you notice you could have prevented this if you weren’t such a cowardly fuckwit-_

“Kar, you haven’t moved. If you're sleepin’ I may be forced to eliminate you. How dare you sleep through History.”

_Shut up Eridan._

“Shut it, buttmunch, I'm coming,”

You still feel drained, despite downing the hideously strong coffee, and he rolls his eyes as you pass him back the empty thermos.

“You wanna go to the venders? I need more coffee now, and I think you need some too. Fancy tellin’ me about it, or no?” Eridan asks, and you decide why the hell not, you have a free hour now. And besides, he’s probably right. Coffee’s definitely going to keep you going until you can rest again.

Of course, you might not be physically able to sleep until you find Terezi. You need to speak to her as soon as possible, else you might just break down.

“Oi, Eridan.” You ask, catching his arm and pulling him to a stop. He turns to face you, brows pinched together in concern.

“I don’t suppose you know what Terezi’s got now? I need her help with something.”

His look goes from concerned to confused. “I thought the two of you weren’t speakin’ to each other anymore,”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to look annoyed. “For a project for English Lit. It's pretty important, I don’t really want to do it but whatever,”

You're not exactly lying. You _do_ have an important essay to write, and Terezi _is_ in your Lit class, but Eridan doesn’t know any more than that. Thank god.

“I'm pretty sure she’ll be in Programmin’ with Sol, they’re in the same class for it, right?”

They are, and you thank Eridan. He tells you they’re let out soon, and drops Sollux a text, “Just to be sure.”. You don’t think you can face Sollux right now, so this is fine.

It didn’t take ten minutes for you to figure out who ‘Mustard’ is.

You're either going to praise him with the strength of a thousand suns for getting ‘Rez to contact you, or _end him_. You haven’t quite decided yet.

After you buy Eridan his coffee (he happily gulps it down before immediately buying a flask of tea. God, you don’t understand him sometimes,) and pick up one for yourself, you head over to the computer labs. Eridan walks you halfway, before squealing that he’s got a class in a few minutes, and promptly turns around and sprints in the other direction.

You mentally _tsk_ at him, and carry on through the cold to block C. It's warm inside, and you park yourself on one of the heaters to wait for the class inside to end.

You're not sure what you're going to say to her. Would she melt down if you told her you knew? _Yes_. You could pretend you’d noticed something was up, but that probably wouldn’t go down too well either, knowing her stubbornness. So you decide that following the _I need your help please help me_ route is probably the best idea, and try to create a subject you need help with on that she’d know about.

Maybe criminology, she does criminology. And you've done a bit of criminology with sociology, so you wouldn’t look like a complete tosser who doesn't know what they’re talking about.

Oh, they’re coming out already. You must have dozed off.

With a slight groan, you stand up and immediately see Sollux. You glare at him, and he shakes his head before tapping his lips and pointing behind him. You nod – _don’t speak to me, Terezi’s back there, speak to her._

He leaves along with the rest of the class, and you nervously approach the door to peer through the window.

She’s still in there, speaking to the professor about something or other. He has a paper in his hand – an essay?- which she takes with a nod, and begins walking towards the door.

You leap backwards, pull out your phone and lean against the wall, trying to look like you weren’t waiting for her like a desperate fool.

It works – she almost walks past you, but her cane bumps against you. She freezes, and your mind completely forgets what you were going to say.

“H – Hi,” you eventually manage, and you slap yourself mentally. _Hi_. Great.

“Karkat?” she asks, and you swallow before humming in confirmation.

“I needed to ask you something. About criminals. Crime. Criminology. For a project I need to do for sociology. It's about crime.”

_You're so fucking stupid Jesus fucking Christ._

She raises an eyebrow in confusion. “So you've come to me for help,”

“You’re a law student, I thought you'd know something about it-” She snorts. “And you're my friend, so I’d rather ask you than someone else.”

There. You dropped the ‘friend word’.

Oh god what if she kills you, she has a cane after all-

“Friend.”

Her voice is hollow, like it was last night, and you chance a look at her. There's a tooth digging in to her lower lip, and she’s confused, eyebrows furrowed behind her glasses.

“Well, yeah, I think of you as a friend, even though we haven’t spoken to each other in fucking ages because I'm a huge fucking asshole, but yeah. We’re friends. Right?” You don’t know how she’ll react. Maybe she’ll smack you. Maybe she’ll smile.

You really hope she smiles.

The side of her mouth lifts slightly, and you deem yourself successful.

“I guess so,”

“...So could you help me? It's a pretty huge shit stain of a project, I'm gonna need all the help I can get,”

“Do you need help now, or can it wait til later? I've got class soon,” she taps her cane on the ground. “I could come over to yours if it's urgent, or there’s the library if tomorrow’s okay,”

She’s actually going to help you; you think you're going to cry.

“I could probably do tonight, if it's okay? You don’t mind?”

“It's not like I've got anything else to do.” Oh no, there goes your heart. “What time?”

You tell her that anything’s fine, and you decide upon 5. At your house. She’s coming to your house because you spoke to her and you're still friends.

_Calm down fuckwit._

You think you see her smile as she leaves, and a warm feeling bubbles up inside you.

Until you remember that, _oh yeah_ , you have Psychology starting in a minute.

You do a fantastic Eridan impression, before sprinting off to the other side of the campus.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys, bless your kind souls for the comments i adore you all  
> Have an eridan. i love eridan so much its unreal, so hopefully he's alright characterization-wise.  
> i love you all so much  
> http://cronulicious.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess whos back (back back) back again (gain gain)  
> i love you all bless you all

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are _so goddamn pissed off._

And also really fucking hungry, since you decided to spend your entire lunch break coming up with a fake project so that Terezi wouldn’t think that you're a huge fuckwit, and didn’t manage to eat. Your stomach is growling like some sort of demented dog, and the people sitting in the row in front of you keep turning to look at you.

You shoot them a glare that unfortunately doesn't kill them, and copy down what the professor just wrote on the board. Even though sociology is by far your favourite class, you just want the day to end.

The coffee Eridan gave you earlier seems to have kicked in as you're not tired at all now, which is a shame because you always get away with napping in sociology – you sit at the back, in a corner on your own (none of your friends take sociology, fuck them to hell) and your professor is pretty old. You ace this class, so you're sure she wouldn’t be bothered anyway.

But whatever. You can't sleep, your normal phone has died and your helpline hasn’t rung once yet today. Which is nice, but it doesn't give you an excuse to skip class.

And you're really, really pissed off, because you could have had lunch and sat with your friends instead of sitting in the freezing library (why doesn't it have heaters? You're going to file a complaint) because –what were the chances? – you've _actually been set a project_ , due in three weeks, on fucking _crime and punishment._

If you weren’t in the middle of a lesson, in a nice warm room, then you would leave, eat and possibly punch an asshole in the face. You're not sure which one you'd punch - there’s a large range to choose from - but it would be a wonderful stress relief.

Maybe if you see Equius he’d let you punch him in the stomach. He's pretty cool like that, and you've used him as a punch bag a few times when you’ve gotten really mad. He just _stands_ there, not even _flinching_ and talks casually to Aradia or Nepeta or Sollux whilst you hit him, then walks away with an awkward smile when you're finished. You don’t think that he even feels it. What a badass.

If you can't find him, maybe you’ll just cry instead. That works as an anger relief, too. You're tired and hungry; you don’t fucking care at this point, as long as you're not mad when Terezi comes over. Just in case you rage at her.

You'd have to launch yourself out of your bedroom window if that happened. You can't rage at her. No. You want to mollycoddle her and squeeze her and give her nice things because, really, she deserves it.

She’d probably be confused as hell because _oh yeah, she thinks you hate her._

You’re going to have a whale of a time persuading her that you don’t, but who gives a flying fuck. As long as she’s happy you don’t even care.

You also really need to stop being such a sap, for God’s sake. This is getting ridiculous.

 

* * *

 

 

You manage to wolf down a bagel on your way home, attracting all the attention of the old ladies that sit in front of you. They look a bit disgusted. Fuck them and proper social etiquette, you're hungry and you're beginning to panic. You can afford to be a fucking slob like every other person your age, for once in your rather pathetic excuse for an existence.

It's nearly half past four and if you don’t get back to your apartment soon, you're gonna get off this filthy bus and sprint home. You've seen others do it (Sollux and Vriska are fine examples, especially when it's raining), and it's not anyone in the area knows you enough to tease you about it anyway.

The bus makes two more stops – you'd never noticed all the pissing stops before, the journey never takes this long what the _fuck_ – before you’re outside your block. A quick dash through the cold and a trip up the elevator later sees you storming into your main room, where you deposit your bags and quickly vacuum the carpet. You've never vacuumed before, and the carpet looks incredible creamy when you're finished. Maybe you should vacuum more often instead of being a lazy shitbag.

Kankri would be so proud of you, being ‘all responsible and clearing up after yourself so you don’t freak people out because some people are allergic to dust and sometimes bad environments can cause people to remember bad things and you could upset them which would be most disappointing I have taught you better than that’ yadda yadda yadda.

You sit yourself down on your sofa, and pull out the project. It's as if your professor read your mind (how dare she) because it's nearly identical to the one you came up with at lunch. At least you’ll know how to do the fucking thing instead of moping around and leaving it until the last minute yet _again_ because you don’t understand the task. Woohoo.

You've just settled yourself down into a comfy-ass cocoon when the buzzer to your door sounds. You promptly fall off the sofa with a hiss and panic again.

The buzzer sounds again as you try to detangle your legs and fail miserably, what a surprise. You yell a hasty “Coming!” to the door, and heave yourself up to shuffle over to let Terezi in. You hope it's her anyway – it's five exactly so if it's not you're going to murder 12 people and a small rodent. You wiggle the door handle a bit before remembering the keys, where has your fucking brain gone of course you need keys dumbass, and finally swing the door open.

“’Sup, asshat,” is the first thing you hear, and you quickly take note that no, that is not Terezi’s voice. You also take not of the fact that your blanket is still wrapped around your legs like a fucking majestic tail.

“Sollux Louise Captor, death is coming for you. It will be a _painful_ death, in which I stab out your stupid eyes with a spork and put you in my blender and send you to your brother as a delicious smoothie, which he will drink and then cry when he reads the letter telling him he drank you. Leave.”

Sollux leans against your doorframe and smirks. How dare he stand in your doorway and smirk when you’re threatening his impending doom.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he asks. You shoot him a withering look.

“Your mom,” you say, because you are a very mature 19 year old.

He snorts and looks faintly amused at your turmoil. “You wound me, Vantas, with your exceptionally shitty threats. They’re worse than usual.” He sneaks around you and flops down on your sofa. “What’s bothering you?”

“ _You_ are, dickwit - get out of my house. Leave.” You're too tired and way too wound up to put up with him. You want your spectacular plan of befriending Terezi to work, and then you want to sleep for eight goddamn years.

“I come bearing news, KK, you should be praying to me on bended knee,”

“Bear it a bit longer. Bear it until the news kills you and I can finally have some peace,”

“Jesus, where’s all your wonderful wit gone? Are you having heart failure, do I need to phone the hospital?”

To your surprise, he looks slightly concerned. So he should, what an asshole. Ruining your day like this.

You leave the door, slamming it shut behind you and park yourself on the floor. It's really very clean, you're definitely vacuuming again.

“Tell me the news and then kindly take your leave,” you tell him with a sigh. He mocks you, so you launch the TV remote at him. To your satisfaction, it smacks him in the forehead and leaves a small red mark. Hahaha.

“You’re a fucking prick, did y’know that?” he mutters. Serves him right.

“Get on with it, Captor,”

He sighs rather dramatically. You presume he’s picked it up from Eridan; he never used to be so theatrical. Aww. When he’s finished your website you're going to tease him to hell about it. There’ll be nothing he could do to stop you.

“Right, yeah - ‘Rez rang like, half an hour ago, she’s gonna be late. I said I’d come to entertain you and to eat your food,” he tells you chirpily, lolling about on your sofa and sending your papers flying.

You stare at him blankly. “And you couldn’t tell me that through the phone why?”

“I wanted to come to eat your food, Mituna hasn’t been shopping in ages. And you looked a bit pissy so I came to relieve you of your huge pissy tensions before you made a bigger dick out of yourself than usual.”

Right. You let your head fall into your hand with a small thud.

Why does he do this to you? Because he's a douche bag.

“You can have a piece of pizza, unless you're staying. _Please_ don’t stay,” you moan at him. Coming to your house, eating your food, being so mean (okay, you're a douche bag too, you’ll accept that) and messing up your incredibly clean lounge. How dare he.

“Of course I'm staying, I've been given clear instructions to counsel your bony ass from KN,” he states. You moan again and accept your fate.

“Half an hour. Then you leave, and _never come back_.”

He smirks, “Right you are, Gollum,”

You're going to smack him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god im sorry for the lack in updates, ive been ill and had exams (5 left iTS THE FINAL COUNTDOWN)  
> i love sollux what a babe  
> cronulicious.tumblr.com


	7. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Terezi Pyrope, and your life is falling apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terezi is the actually a queen bow down to her the poor poor bby  
> also: see bottom notes for stuff on pyropes (headcanoning that RGs dutch, LT & TZ are half dutch, to clear u any confusion)

 

_Intermission: 1_

 

* * *

 

  ** _3 weeks in the past_**

 

* * *

 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and your life is falling apart.

To be perfectly honest, it's been falling apart since your extremely terrible twelfth birthday. Which was 7 years, 1 month and 3 days ago, to be precise, but you still remember it like it was yesterday (although you would definitely prefer to not remember it all. You'd probably give one of your more prized possessions to forget it, but life doesn't work like that. Life is a bitch).

Of course, you didn’t realise at the time that it would cause your world to come tumbling down. A twelve year old would most certainly _not_ consider the future when they first find out that their eyes have been removed from their skull, and they would not be able to see ever again. A twelve year old would explode into tears for the loss of sight, explode with anger at the person partially responsible for their loss and try to hold their head up to pretend that nothing had changed. Or at least, that's what you did. But then again, you've never been quite normal, so you can't say that that's what everyone would do for certain. That would just be silly.

The accident itself was caused by Vriska and yourself arguing over the radio channel whilst on the way to your birthday party. If she hadn’t demanded to be in control, your mom wouldn’t have been distracted and ploughed into the back of a car. You don’t remember the collision – when you came around in the hospital, they told you that you were knocked out when your head slammed onto the dashboard.

Said dashboard had shattered and filled your eyes with plastic (Are dashboards supposed to do that? Probably not).You were torn between horror and relief that you had been knocked out – you hadn’t felt any pain at all, thank god, but you came around to a darkness that was suffocating, to be told that your eyes had been torn to shreds by plastic, removed, and replaced by more plastic. It's almost ironic, you think bitterly.

Your mom got out with few injuries, which you're glad about – the accident wasn’t her fault in the slightest - but you _know_ she feels guilty that you suffered so much whilst she barely suffered at all.

Vriska broke her arm and almost lost an eye. But she’s fine now, to what used to be your utter disgust. You've come to terms with your lack of vision, managing to forgive Vriska for what happened. You haven’t quite forgiven yourself yet. You don’t see reason to forgive yourself. You don’t see anything, really (ha, ha).

The plastic eyes they fitted you with press down on your eye sockets, aching when you lie on your back. You can take them out, trusting either your mom or Latula to tell you where you put them and which ones you're going to put in (you can't wear your red ones to school, which is very upsetting). You used to leave your eye sockets empty at Halloween, to your amusement and everyone else’s horror.

They’re aching now, but you can't be bothered to remove them. You can't be bothered to do much, these days. You're exhausted. You don’t particularly enjoy being around people, even your old friends – with the occasional exception of Sollux -, for the fear of them finding out how much of a fuckup you are.

You managed your way through to the age of 15 with the few friends you had left – Nepeta, Aradia, Sollux, Tavros – then, incredibly, you managed to make friends with their friends, bringing your little group to 12. Vriska’s in the group, but you'd accepted her presence with not much of a fight. The others all accepted you easily enough, worrying when they asked you a question involving the word ‘see’ or ‘look’. Karkat especially, to your amusement. You found yourself spending a lot of time with him, Sollux and Eridan. They treated you like you weren’t disabled, and you revelled in it.

You got over your concerns that they were only putting up with you because they had to eventually. The voice in your head helped you with that. You think the voice came to comfort you when you first broke down, and she hasn’t left you since. She helped you get used to being blind, guided you and taught you how to see with your other senses. You named her Pyralspite in affection and gratitude for her help, and you never mentioned her to anyone. Which was a _huge fucking mistake_ , but whatever. You just assumed that all blind people had an assistant that lived in their head, which when you think about, is really fucking stupid and twelve year old you definitely wasn’t thinking clearly when she came to the conclusion.

Pyralspite has never given you any trouble, has always been useful and was the only voice that you ever heard until maybe eight months ago, when another pair came to life.

_‘Another pair?’ I resent that!_

At first, you thought they would be like Pyral - the possibility of them being hostile never crossed your mind. Well, hostile isn’t quite the right word for the two of them. Maybe ‘really fucking irritating and degrading and sneaky’ for the male one you named Slick, and ‘quite demanding but protective and occasionally nice’ for the female you named Snowman.

The two of them argued and bicker at each other nearly all the fucking time, a constant buzzing in your mind that causes you to yell at them and want to slice them out of your head. You sometimes wonder if you're going insane.

The insanity stops for a while when you begin to hang around more with Dave. You met him through a media class you took for fun, and found yourself by his side more often than with your other friends. You spoke to them less, and after dating Dave for a week before deciding that no, it wasn’t working, you didn’t speak to Karkat again.

You find yourself more alone as Dave’s friends join yours to make a group of 16. You speak less, and find yourself listening to the trio in your head more and more. Slick’s arguments with Snowman became more aggressive, with Pyralspite intervening and you having to mentally tell them to shut up, because you could nearly feel the hatred they held for each other.

You definitely wondered if you were going insane when, after a particularly murderous argument between Slick and Snowman, you saw a tall, feminine shadow fall to the ground after being shot by a short, masculine one. In your head, of course. Which makes it all the more frightening.

You haven’t heard Snowman’s’ voice since.

Jesus Christ, that scares you.

You begin to speak to your friends again, and for a while, life improved. You held an internal celebration that _no, you’re not going mad._ And then it falls to shit again. Of course it does.

The silencing of Snowman only causes Slick to get worse. The buzzing from their arguments was nothing in comparison to the silence, broken by Slicks occasional comment.

And his comments _hurt_. You reckon that being poisoned would feel much the same.

It started out small. Just the occasional _Do_ _they really need your help with that piece of work? Or are they asking because they feel sorry for you?_

You managed to silence them by sarcastically replying _Duh_. Pyralspite would often jump to your defence, and Slick would leave you alone.

It quickly moved to _See! They’re not even listening to you. I bet they don’t even like you, trying to be cool and liked when really you're just the dumb, blind kid that they let hang around because they pity you. Duh._

You didn’t know what to say to that. And the comments increased.

You began to believe them, because really, Slick was right.

They did tell you to ‘ _shoosh, we’re talking’_ every now and then, or not listen to you, or leave you out of the conversations. You tried to think nothing of it – you can't be included all the time, right? – but damn, he was right.

You began to think that maybe they didn’t really like you. Maybe you were too loud, too hyperactive all the time, maybe that annoyed them. You vowed to stop being both, just to see if it would change anything.

It didn’t. All you earned was a _Hah! Told you they didn’t care. They wouldn’t mind if you weren’t there. They probably wouldn’t notice. Just the stupid, blind girl, who would miss her?_

You try to ignore it because what else could you do? It's not like anyone would believe you if you told them ‘Hey, I've got some voices in my head that argue and I saw one of them die’. You'd get locked in a fucking padded cell.

Slicks comments nag on your subconscious – they probably think you are stupid. You don’t even know what you look like anymore, they probably laugh at you behind your back for your plastic eyes and your mismatched clothes and your wild hair. You can't see to make yourself look decent, so why should you bother? Or at least, that was what you always thought. You used to not care about what you looked like, but _Maybe they’re embarrassed by you. The ugly blind girl who looks a mess and smiles too wide and speaks too loud._

It takes a lot of willpower for you to not break down in tears at the lunch table when you hear that. Nobody would have noticed, even if you did.

You find yourself in the lowest place you've ever been, and begin to think, _is this really worth it?_

You snap yourself out of that as fast as you can, because you know better than to go to the mindset of questioning your existence. The thought remains though, and Slick helps feed it. You want to slice him out of your mind and burn him.

Over time, Pyralspite grows weaker. You hear from her less and less, and _no, you can't be left with Slick, don’t leave –_

The two of them started an argument whilst you were finishing your English Literature homework. You felt the anger coming from Slick, the same anger that first came when Snowman ‘died’, and when you feel it burn and you hear Pyralspite scream, you scream with her for him to _stop it,_ to _leave her alone._

You didn’t realise that you screamed out loud until Sollux put a hand on your shoulder and asked if you were okay. You burst into tears and ran out of the library, ignoring his shouts and missing your last periods to go home and sob.

Which is where you are now. Alone, at home, crying over the fact that the goddamn voices in your head were trying to kill each other. You think that if they went completely, you would break down. You would break down, and you don’t think you'd be able to get back up.

So far, Sollux, Eridan, Nepeta and Aradia have left messages on your phone. You ignore all of them in favour of curling up in your duvet, fingers pressing the balls of plastic deeper into your eye sockets and causing them to throb. The pain helps you come back down to earth, to think rationally. A voice is just a voice, and it would be a relief if they went. Unless you still had Slick.

You know that Slick could drive you to self-destruction, and it _scares_ you. It scares you so much that you feel sick, and your head throbs.

When your mom pokes her head around your bedroom door, you tell her that you have a migraine – which is true, you do have a migraine and you want to pass out so you can't feel the _pain_ anymore –and she promises not to make too much noise.

You don’t know what time you fall asleep, but Latula’s not home yet. All you know is that you're relieved that Pyralspite is still there.

 

* * *

 

 

 

You wake up to your mom shaking you, tears in her eyes and her hands clutching you like a lifeline. There are tears pouring down your own face, and she tells you that you've been thrashing, screaming and pleading to someone in your sleep.

You're beginning to fall apart.

You don’t remember your dream but the pain that floods through your body has left you covered in sweat and shaking. You can feel the horror left over from your dream, and realise that it's not just your own. It's from your family, your friends. You can think of only one thing that would cause so much _pain_.

It doesn't take much to realise what you dreamt about.

It also doesn't take long for you to realise that there’s something wrong with you. You find yourself crying harder – why didn’t you do anything when you first thought there was a problem? – and Jesus fucking Christ, _you need help_.

The first person that comes to your mind is Sollux –of course it is, he’s the only one you've spoken to recently and you know he has a lot of shit to deal with, maybe he’ll know what’s wrong with you. You would ask your mom, but you know she’s got a trial in the morning and there’s no way you're letting her stress and worry over you in the middle of the night.

You manage to tell your mom that you need to see Sollux, Sollux would understand, and your mom accepts it. You sob into her chest, thanking her and telling her that you love her. She holds you tightly until your breathing slows slightly, her arms shaking, before gently pushing you off so she can fetch Latula. She comes straight back, apologising and gathering you up in her arms. You clutch each other until Latula comes running in and flings herself onto the two of you. The three of you sit hugging until you manage to stop crying, and your mom finally stands up.

 “Don’t go to school tomorrow, either of you. I've got a trial in the morning, but in the afternoon we’re going out somewhere,” she turns to face you, and puts her hands on your shoulders. It's comforting, and you find yourself leaning into the touch. “Terezi, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, as long as you tell someone and make sure you're okay, okay?”

You manage to whisper an “okay,”, and your mom straightens up, rubbing her face wearily.

Latula gently helps you up, and keeps an arm around your shoulders as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You're still shaking, your arms slightly wobbly as you pull on several hoodies in preparation to battle the November cold.

As your about to leave, your mom calls down to Latula in Dutch. They hold a short conversation before Latula smiles weakly and opens the door to let you out. You feel vaguely annoyed that you don’t know what they were saying, but Latula nudges you to the car before you can say anything about it.

The drive is short, and neither of you say anything until you're standing outside the Captor’s apartment block. Latula’s holding a bag, you can hear whatever’s in it rattle a little – you presume she’s staying the night instead of returning home, since Mituna’s her boyfriend  - and she takes your hand with a quiet “Come on,” to walk you into the building.

When she knocks on their door, there’s no reply. She snorts, and you can hear her pull out her phone to call Mituna. The call consists of “Jeez, ‘Tuna, open the goddamn door and wake up mini you, I'm on helluva mission,”

There’s movement from inside the apartment, and when the door finally is pulled open, both Captors are there, half asleep and both in striped pyjamas.

Latula immediately goes in, patting you on the shoulder and murmuring that you’ll be okay – tears form in your eyes again, and you can almost hear Sollux wringing his hands together.

“Shit, Terezi, get your ass in here right now,” he tells you, and you promptly burst into tears again, _goddamn_ it. He pulls you into a hug and into the apartment at the same time, locking the door behind you. The pair of you manage to shuffle into his room and onto the incredibly large pile of soft toys and pillows he has in there.

He sits himself down, and you find yourself being pulled on top of him before being smothered in the plush animals. You cry until your eye sockets itch and you feel that there are no tears left in you, face buried in his shoulder and his head awkwardly patting your back. When you eventually release him, he hands you what feels like a bee, and sighs.

“Am I right in guessing that you're not okay?” he asks, and you let out a soft snort before nodding.

“And you came to me because I'm dashingly good looking and an excellent hugger, or..?”

You plop your forehead onto the bee and inhale noisily. “You're the only one that could understand,” you manage to say, and he wiggles his way through the pile so that the two of you are lying in the centre of it, cuddled up in the same way that you did when you were kids.

He puts his chin on top of your head. “Speak,” is all he says.

You do.

 

* * *

 

 

When you fall silent, Sollux engulfs you in a hug, and holy shit, you've reduced the mighty Sollux Captor to tears. You hug it out for what seems a decade, until the tears stop, and he takes a shaky breath.

“Why didn’t you say earlier, you absolute _tit_ ,” he says, and there’s no malice in his voice, only worry and pain and it breaks your heart. How could you ever think that he hates you?

“I thought you’d all hate me, or laugh, because I'm a stupid blind freak who-“ you say, before a hand is slapped over your mouth and Sollux growls.

“Dammit, TZ, you're not a fucking freak, shut the _fuck_ up and do _not_ say that ever again or I will _steal_ your red eyes. They will be _gone_. _Forever_.” He hisses, and you feel a lump grow in your throat. You force yourself not to cry again.

“What the hell’s wrong with me, then?!” you say, voice wavering. You're not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Sollux must have pressed his face into a plushie, because when he speaks, his voice is slightly muffled.

“Well, I'm about 80% sure that – that you’re schizophrenic. And suffering from a mild depression because of the fucking asshole in your head. We don’t hate you, Jesus shit we don’t hate you and we’re going out to get you to a doctor tomorrow because you do not need to deal with this and we’ll sort it out and you’ll be fine and happy and never have to deal with those sort of dreams again I won't let you I will duct tape myself to you until you're okay I can't -“ his voice cracks, and you find yourself engulfed again, a numbness settling over you.

You're not mad you've got at least one person on your side you're going to be treated and you're going to be okay you’ll be fine –

The pair of you fall asleep in the pile of stuff. You don’t have another nightmare.

Your name is Terezi Pyrope, and you hope that one day, you might be okay.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real headcannon here: Dutch pyropes. Redglares husband was an emotionally abusive asshole, but she never realised it til Rez was born. both Tula n Rez are dutch/america, but tula had 3 years in the netherlands before rez was born, so speaks the language p fluently - rez doesnt, much to her annoyance. anyway, when redglare realised shed married an asshole, she learnt all basic law stuff to win a butt tonne of money by taking the case to court, influencing her to become a fully fledged law person. husband goes to jail, redglare is a complete and utter badass single mom and kicks butt in the courtroom too.  
> also SolRezi moirails because hot damn theyre great moirails and there is not enough appreciation for it  
> if anyone has any questions bout terezi just ask - i had a hilarious one about 'why would u make tz schizo shes clearly not have u even read homestuck' which made me laugh bc terezi was taught to see by pyralspite aka unborn dragon, could hear the exiles voices damn clearly, so in humanstuck that p much translates to schizophrenia much like sollux being bipolar but hey, free world if you dont agree thats fine just dont battle with me please
> 
> thank you all so so much i love you all


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow its been a while sorry bout that, ive started AS levels and damn do they suck  
> anyway shoutout to all you who've still been reading and commenting and kudosing, youre fantastic and i love you
> 
> also if anyone has any hs prompts they want writing, im almost at study leave so feel free to send them???

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are not amused.

Not amused _at all._

In fact, you can't remember the last time you were so very unamused. Probably when Vriska thought it’d be fun to hide a toy spider in your ice cream, because _what the fuck, Vriska_ , but hey, you're rambling again. Shut up, asshole.

The reason for your great, otherworldly displeasure is sat on your couch, eating his fourth slice of pizza, and trailing crumbs on your beautifully vacuumed carpet.

You want to stab him. Gently, with a toothpick, because he still needs to make the website for you. You’ll stab him in the leg; he doesn't really use those all that often. It’ll give him an excuse to laze around even more. He would be happy.

Apart from the whole ‘holy shit I've been stabbed in the leg it hurts’ part, because damn, Sollux Captor is a weak ass bitch when it comes to pain. Or at least, he used to be. Hell if you know if he still is, you haven’t stabbed him in a while. Not that you make a habit of stabbing your friends all that often anyway, but it's the thought that counts. Maybe.

It must be really fucking late if you're rambling this much. Damn.

(Whoops, no it's not. It's half past fucking five and Sollux is still in your house. His 30 minutes ends in 2 minutes. Then you’ll kick his scrawny ass out.)

“So,” says the Great Annoyance sat on your couch. “What exactly do you do for this sufferer’s thing?”

Oh god, you're going to smack him. Really really hard.

“Maybe it would’ve been a bit damn better to ask me that before you went and fucking told Terezi about it?” you're flaring your nostrils as hard as you can, because you know it makes you look intimidating. “What if it was completely irrelevant to her problems and I told her to piss off, did you think of that, asswad? Then where the fuck would we be?!” you seethe at him, because you _deserve_ to seethe. Especially at him.

He holds his hands up in surrender. Another crumb drops to the floor.

Your eyebrow twitches. You tell it to calm down.

“It's _you_ ; you're hardly going to turn someone in need away. I'm not fucking stupid, I _see_ how you peer over at everyone who looks a little sad and poke your nose in, it's not fucking hard to miss! You missed TZs because _damn_ is she good at keeping herself to herself, fucking ass that she is, I thought it’d be best to get her to speak to someone, she spoke to you, you can now nose all you like! Voila!”

He flings his arms out in annoyance, nearly hitting your nose (which certainly does _not_ poke itself into people’s business, thanks very much - that's Kankri’s speciality).

“I'm going to smack you,” you tell him, then whack his arm. It probably hurt you more that it hurt him, but what the hell. You could do with some anger relief. Maybe you should start going to the gym with Equius; Nepeta’s always said it calms him down. And he looks like a complete badass too, which is only a bonus.

A quick glance at Major Asshole tells you that he's smug, smug as a very smug cat that's had its ass dumped in a vat of cream. _Why_ does he look so smug. How _dare_ he realise you've gone off on a tangent in your head. What a prick.

You sigh raggedly. “I do not _nose_ into _anything_ ; I just watch out for people, is that such a huge ass deal now?”

He snorts. “You followed me around for two weeks and kept questioning my wellbeing for a month, even when I _told_ you I had everything sorted. It's not nosing as much as _obsessively_ _being a mother hen_ to the _extreme_ and making a complete fucking fool out of yourself,”

Well. He's not wrong.

You were _worried_ about him, that's all. What else were you supposed to do?

“I wanted to make sure you were _okay_ , dipshit, not that you appreciated it,” you tell him, and grab hold of his leg. It flails wildly for a minute, but you hold that leg like a fucking baby koala clinging to a tree surrounded by dingoes. Or tourists. Or whatever.

He sighs and stops flapping around. “I _did_ appreciate it and I _told_ you I did but fucking Mother Vantas, aka _you_ , wanted to smother me in rainbows and shit. I'm giving you the chance to mollycoddle someone else that isn’t me and needs mollycoddling,”

“What the _fuck_ does mollycoddle mean?” you sneer, probably more viciously than needed. Who cares, he should keep his pointy Canadian nose to himself. And you _know_ what mollycoddle means – you're very good at mollycoddling – but he doesn't need to know that.

He doesn't answer, instead pointing to the computer and reaching out for another slice of pizza. What a dick. Coming into your home, eating your hard earned food, ruining your lovely clean floor.

God _damn_ , you're tired. You really, really want him to go.

*

He eventually rolls off your couch and onto the floor to flop around next to you. He stays there for a few minutes, groaning like you have never heard him groan before (it's _got_ to be Eridan’s influence. You're going to meddle with them _so much_ ; it's going to be _so fucking good_ ), then heaving himself upright.

“I'm off then, have a nice date,” he smirks. You stab him in the ankle with a pen.

“It's not a _date_ , fuckwit, go find some dick to suck. Or any other genitalia actually, I don’t mind, as long as it shuts your fucking bitchass mouth.”

He shakes his head and snorts. “Oh I'm trying, trust me.”

And with that, he leaves.

Good riddance.

Also, ew.

 

* * *

 

 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and holy shit, _you can't do this_.

You're currently stood outside Karkat’s apartment building, bag clutched in one hand so tightly that you can feel the strap digging into your palm far more than it should be. A few months ago you wouldn’t have been in this situation – you would’ve marched straight up and demanded food in repayment for your ever-so-expertise advice.

It's not a few months ago, though. It's now, and you're not even going to try and pretend you're not scared.

Because you _are_ scared. You can feel your legs trembling underneath you from something other than the bitter wind; you've become far too familiar with the panic building up in your chest, making you want to sob and to curl upon yourself. You're a coward. It's pathetic.

The wind rushes past you, bringing a flurry of crispy leaves with it. You shiver slightly and pull your jacket around you a bit tighter.

You were dropped off by your mom about ten minutes ago at the bus stop closest to his apartment – you know the exact number of steps from there to the building (532, with a left turn at 490), so you figured it’d be far easier to walk than have your mom lead you up there. She has better things to be doing, after all. Including being a complete boss in court, roasting Latula about her coursework, and doing pilates. You love your mom.

You really don’t love the cold. Whose stupid idea was it to have cold seasons? Why couldn’t everything be nice and toasty all the time? You can barely hear from the constant wind whipping your hair around your face. You can hardly find your way around in the cold – the pathways become too slippery to take normal size steps, so you always end up a good few meters short of your destination, making people who don’t realise your condition laugh as you get confused and spin, trying to find your bearings. And it hurts - as much as you try to laugh it off and move along; it always stings in your ears and makes your face burn. Winter really sucks. You hate it.

It's also occurred to you that you’re stalling going inside. Damn, you're a wimp.

_Really, if you went into the apartment, you'd be warm. What’s the worst that could happen?_ says Pyralspite. _He called you a friend, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you._

You don’t move. The trembling makes its way up from your legs to your hands and you start to worry your bottom lip.

_You’ll be fine, trust me._

With a sigh, you turn the 90 degrees to face the building, and set off, carefully counting your strides as you go.

_There we go. What’s the worst that could happen?_ Pyral whispers to you.

You don’t bother to think of a reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas – of course it fucking is, who else is it gonna be? You haven’t suddenly changed person, merely sitting position. You're now placed on the couch, curled upon to yourself as much as you physically can be, and full of jittery nerves.

Many, many jittery nerves. Jitterier than Tavros used to be, and _damn_ , he used to be jittery. He's got better of course – having Vriska breathing down their neck 24/7 is enough to have anyone twitchy (apart from Egbert, but you're not sure if anything fazes him. What a weirdo.), and since she’s left him alone he's come back out of his shell. Which you're really pleased about. Not that you’ll be telling him _that_ anytime soon.

Anyway. You're nervous. Why are you nervous? Well, the answer is simple. It is now 6:00. Sollux has been gone for 25 minutes (not that you're counting), and there hasn’t been a knock on your door since.

You're beginning to wonder if this was a big mistake.

With a groan, you heft yourself up off the couch to make a pot of coffee. Even if Terezi doesn't show up, you’ll probably stay awake for most of the night; working and worrying. Two of the things you do best.

Which isn’t very healthy really, but oh well. You're an adult now; you can take care of your own ass. Hopefully.

You mooch around the kitchenette whilst the coffee brews, before parking your rear on the counter top and start putting your regular phone onto charge.

That's when the buzzer goes.

You fling your phone into the air with an undignified squeak, and just about manage to not pass out. That’d be bad. Very bad. Not to mention embarrassing.

_Shut up and answer the damn door, dickweed!_

So you do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cronulicious.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, its been a while....

Your name is Karkat Vantas and for the first time in your pitiful life, you are speechless.

Which is a miracle in itself: this day should be recorded in the history books and taught to small children. Why would they teach it? You don’t know, but it'd be pretty damn sweet if they did.

Anyway. Focus.

The reason for your sudden lack of voice power is stood on your door, looking incredibly anxious (not that you’d ever tell her that!) and rather chilly. She’s also several inches shorter than you – her face stares squarely at your nose, and you find yourself slumping down even more than you usually do until you're both the same height. She never liked being one of the shortest, and you've never had the heart to break it to her that you're taller than her now. You probably never will. What a sap.

You manage to pick your chin up off the floor - you’re not quite sure why it’s down there, possibly because you weren’t actually expecting her to show up, - and smile at her (she can’t see it fucking dumbass she’s blind but you do it anyway).

"Karkat?" she asks, worry staining her voice and making your heart leap up in your throat. You push it back down, back into its rightful place, and push the door wide open.

"Terezi, hi," you manage to say, and her shoulders visibly drop.

"Fuck, thank god, I thought I had the wrong place for a minute - haven’t been round in a while," she lets out a small laugh that, had you not known that something was wrong, would have sounded completely normal. This terrifies you, holy shit.

"You’ve got the right place, don’t worry - come in, the furniture hasn’t moved since you were last over so you should be okay with getting around?" you’re perfectly aware that you’re speaking about 47 times faster than usual, but whatever. You’re damn nervous and therefore allowed to.

She nods and steps into your (extremely clean, no matter how much mess Sollux had tried to create) apartment, makes her way over to the couch with no issues and sits herself down. Her back is straighter than most of your friends (haha), and you can almost see the tension rolling off her in waves. She has a bag of books with her, which she’s set down on your coffee table and begun to sort through.

With a quick glance down the hallway (you don’t quite trust Sollux to have gone home and leave you in peace – nosey bugger would probably listen through the key hole), you close your door and make your way over to your currently occupied couch. God, this is awkward. Why didn’t you think this would be awkward? You're fucking dumb, wow. Shuffling your feet slightly, you try and be a good host. You're really terrible at this whole people-in-the-house thing, and it makes you wish that Kankri was here to fill the silence with his nonstop babbling. The only things Kankri is good at: waking you up and babbling. You really don’t miss him otherwise.

“So, you want a drink or anything? I’d offer pizza but Sollux was round earlier and ate it all,” you ask, and you almost make yourself cringe with how forced this is. You should’ve made plans to meet in the library, dammit, at least you'd have someone else there to diffuse the steadily building tension.

She snorts and shakes her head. “No, I'm good thanks,”

Welp. Now you're just kinda stood in the kitchen like a fucking idiot. Nice work, brainless. You decide to fill a glass with water for yourself anyway, and make your way back to the couch. The text books are now strewn across the table, so you grab your notebook and trusty aquarium pen and settle down next to her.

“What exactly did you want help with? I wasn’t sure so I've brought most of the books that cover law and criminology and social stuff,” she tells you, and wow does that make you feel guilty.

“They want a presentation or essay on the reasons people commit crime and how they’re dealt with, and how different circumstances affect punishment, stuff like that,” you tell her, and really, you're pretty damn glad you've got some help because you have no idea how to tackle this. The odds are definitely in your favour for the moment.

She nods, and dives into explaining all sorts of scenarios which is great, bless her. You spend the next however the fuck long working through a list that you had compiled at lunch, grabbing cups of coffee for the pair of you in between, and you soon get enough information (that you actually understand, incredibly) to write a damn good essay. Terezi gets more animated and opinionated as time goes on, much to your joy - it’s nice to see her lively again, and you begin to realise just how much you’ve missed her company. Which is a lot. You suck.

You don’t tell her this, obviously. She’d probably punch you and vanish, never to be seen again. Which would suck, you'd probably cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, she sits up from where she was hunched over her Biggest Book of Scariest Laws, and looks at you (or at your nose, rather) again.

“How long've we been here?” she asks with a yawn, and you’re pretty damn surprised to tell her that it has been almost 2 hours. She looks mildly shocked herself, then seems to shake it off. You don’t fail to notice the rise in her shoulders, or the silence that washes over you as she closes the book.

“Shit, how did that happen? I should go, you probably want to sleep or something,” she says, and a tiny, grabby part of your gross self wants to say no, to invite her to stay and order Chinese or something, but the more sensible (thank god) part of your brain jumps in and slaps that thought back down to its place in hell.

“Yeah, I’ve got a class first thing so that’s probably a good idea,” you say. She nods, and begins to gather up her stuff. You watch, feeling rather useless, and decide to run your mugs (5 of them, holy shit) back to the kitchen. By the time you return, she’s all ready to go and you’re suddenly being pathetic. Again.

“How’re you getting home?” you ask suddenly, because hell fucking no you’re not letting her walk home in the cold and the wind and the snow, alone and at night. Anything could happen, and you’re not gonna let that anything be on your watch. She shifts her weight a little, and you have to hold back a sigh. She was planning on walking, bless her, and you quickly jump in with “I was gonna grab a taxi and go visit Eridan to help him practice his lines for that play he's doing - you can come with, to save you walking?”

You weren’t going to visit Eridan, duh, but hey, he wants a bit of help and it’s as good an excuse as any. She probably knows it's a lie - hell, you've just said you need to be getting to bed, you absolute fuckwit. Either way, she doesn't seem to notice. She certainly looks more relieved at the offer.

“Yeah, that’d be good – Mom’s gonna be in court all night and Tula’s gone off to see Roxy, so...”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’ll just call them, hang on.” She nods back, and settles herself back down onto the sofa.

You skip off (in your mind that is - in reality you do a trudgy sort of walk but who the fuck cares) and call the well used number Kankri left stuck to the fridge, and chuck your many mugs into the sink whilst you’re at it. You’re really beginning to like this whole tidy business, and it’s only been a day. What the absolute fuck is wrong with you? Kankri would be proud.

Your skilful cup tossing kills a few minutes, and you wander back into the lounge.

“The taxi guy’ll probably be here by now - he’s pretty great.”

She nods and gathers her stuff together, tapping around with her cane to check she’s got it all. You cast a glance around to make sure she’s left nothing behind, then the pair of you set off. You manage to leave your apartment and reach the reception area without many issues (other than the silence, which is murdering you, goddamn), and sure enough, Phil the taxi man is waiting for you. What a hero. He's your usual taxi man, so you greet him with a vague smile and confirm your destination.

Should you get in the back or the front? God, you're awkward. You hop in the back, Terezi feeling her way in after you. You get stabbed with her cane as she folds it down, but that's okay. Phil turns and waggles his eyebrows at you, the old fucker, and pulls off down the road.

“So I'm thinking that the essay thing should be good to go, but I’ll call you if I have any issues?” you say.

She nods and pulls out her phone, much to your confusion. She looks a bit sheepish for a second and waves it. “I lost pretty much everyone’s number a while back, the SIM card fucked up then I never got round to plugging them back in. Could you..?” she holds it out to you, and you hear yourself saying _yeah, sure,_ and take it. It’s voice activated (duh), but she’s left it unlocked, so you make yourself a contact and pop your number in. Your house one, too, just in case.

“It's in, you just gotta make the voice thing for it,” you tell her, and she takes it back off you.

“Cool, thanks,” she smiles, and you smile back because goddammit you're weak and she really is very pretty.

Phil the taxi man clears his throat, and oops, it appears you're at Terezi’s already. Doesn't time fly.

“We’re here - your house is straight ahead when you get out the car,” you tell her, and it feels so natural to fall back in the old routine of gently directing her. She hates it, generally, which isn’t a surprise. She’s very independent, always has been, but you know better than to leave her stranded. She’d probably end up in someone else’s house. Which would be bad.

When she’s out, you stay until you're sure that she’s safely inside, then give Phil the go ahead to take you to Eridan’s.

 

* * *

 

 

To your (not very strong, but still kinda there) surprise, Sollux’s shitty old truck is sat on Eridan’s driveway. Wonderful. You're tempted to turn around and go home right now, but hell, you paid your good money to come out here, and you're going to have to face Sollux eventually. He always wants status reports when something happens, so you're pretty sure this time won't be any different.

So you screw up your measly amounts of courage and press the door bell. There’s a thundering of feet, and it's pulled open by a rather flustered Eridan Ampora.

“Yo,” you say, waving at him.

“Hello?” he replies.

You sigh. “Is it a bad time, or can I come in?” you ask, and he looks mildly bewildered for a second before nodding and stepping back to allow you in.

What a nerd. He's in pyjamas: hideously purple, silken, stripy monstrosities that you wouldn’t be averse to burning, if you didn’t know that it would probably make him cry. And then you'd feel bad. You're fairly sure you've seen these particular ones before, but who knows. Eridan has more stripy, silky pyjamas than you do hoodies. Sollux told you so, and Feferi confirmed it.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks, following you down the hallway to his living room. It’s a posh living room, and you fully expect to find Sollux lounging on the leather sofa, eating his weight in Chinese food.

“Just thought I’d pop round, see how my bestest buddies were doing, or is that a goddamn crime now?” you tell him, and he snorts.

“Thought y’had a date tonight,” is all he says as a reply. What the fuck. You're going to kill Sollux.

Speaking of the mountie prick, he's exactly where you expected him to be. He gives you a small salute and a smirk, before turning back to what looks like chow mein. How predictable. You're going to stab him.

“I'm going to stab you,” you say.

“Hello to you too, Lord Vantas,”

You turn to Eridan, who’s trying his hardest to look innocent. Bless.

“He’s eaten at least half a pizza already; if he dies of obesity, it's your fault and I won't be coming to the funeral,”

Eridan looks flabbergasted, and walks over to snatch the tub of noodles away from the Humongous Prick. “You said you hadn’t eaten yet!”

“I lied,”

You snort. “No fucking shit,”

“How’d the Not-Date go then, KK? Get some good studying done?” Sollux waggles his eyebrows at you. You pretend not to hear him, and sink into the fancy-schmancy plush chair opposite him. Eridan’s wandered off with the Chinese, looking slightly furious.

“You can't ignore me forever, Karkat, I will find out,” comes next, and you arch an eyebrow in his general direction. You will not meet his eyes because if you do, he’ll look so mopey and miserable you’ll end up blabbing anyway. You know his scheming ways.

“She turned up, by some miracle - we did most of my essay, we drank coffee, she went home and I came here. That's all there is to it,” you tell him. You’re not exactly lying, that's pretty much what happened.

Sollux snorts. “What’re you doing here anyway? Thought you would’ve stayed at home, squealing into your pillow,” is what leaves his mouth and wow, okay, what the fuck.

You decide the best course of action is to leap on him and maybe strangle him. So you do exactly that, because you have no regards for your own safety, and Sollux may be over 6 foot tall but he's weaker than a corpse. The pair of you struggle and fall to the floor with a thump, a long string of curses falling from your mouth. You've managed to get your arm round Sollux’s neck but he's got his legs wrapped round your torso like a demented squid and he's wriggling like you've never seen anything wriggle before. You get a head butt to the chin and grunt; you grab a fistful of his hair in return and try to detach him from your waist with another wriggle. His mouth is suspiciously close to your hand, and you try your goddamn best to get it away before the little shit bites it.

A door slams somewhere in the house and you remember _oh yeah, Eridan._ He's stood in the doorway looking mildly alarmed, which he shouldn’t be, really, he knows both of you well enough to expect this sort of thing.

“Um,” is all he says, and suddenly Sollux has leapt off of you – you remain on the floor, and scowl up at them.

“He started it,” is all Sollux says. You heave yourself up and stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are. He turns to Eridan and pouts.

“See? He's mean and cruel and needs to be punished.”

“That sounds like the beginning to a bad porno so no thanks, I’ll leave you two to cuddle alone,” Eridan replies. Sollux pouts again, which is ignored in favour of a fluffy plum bathrobe slung over the back of the armchair. “I'm gonna go to bed - you can stay if y’really want, Kar, Sol can sleep with me-” Sollux whoops at this and gets a withering look, “-and please try not to kill each other, the carpets far too new to be replaced already.”

He waves and heads upstairs. Sollux waves back before turning to smirk at you. You shake your head at him and sink back down on the chair closest to you, feeling slightly more tired than you probably should after that short burst of exercise, if it can even be called that.

“Glad to know you've finally sorted your fucking life out,” you tell him.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck yes I have KK, you should be proud of all the sorting I've done, it's been like going through a never ending barrel of unmatched socks, it's fucking amazing,”

You look at him in confusion. “What the actual fuck does that even _mean?_ ”

“Just know some top quality sorting has been done, just accept it,” he says, and fine, you suppose - you’ll do just that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo hey im so sorry for abandoning yall for so long!! its been a stressful few years - ive just finished my alevels though so hopefully thingsll calm down!!! either way this isnt abandoned forever, just was on unexpected hiatus. ill go back through all the other chapters and make amendments at some point too.  
> if youre still here or if youre new here, i love you. thankyou all for your support and for being so patient with me, im hoping to get this all wrapped up within the year so updates should begin to come out much more regularly now!!


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